Chapter Two

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.

Joseph Roux

Winston piled the last of the pancakes onto the platter, then carried it out to a table already neatly set for three. Three places, where there should've been four. His eyes burned and he roughly scrubbed the back of one hand over them, turning away from the empty place at the table.

"Winston?" Ray's subdued voice came from the kitchen doorway. "You gonna get Egon?"

"Yeah. He in the lab?" It wasn't really a question. These days, Egon was rarely anywhere else, unless it was the hospital. Winston didn't even wait for Ray's nod, merely turned and headed up the stairs to the third floor. "I'll get him."

"Good luck."

Yeah. He'd need it, too.

It had always been Peter dragging Egon out of the lab and into the real world. Now, with Peter gone, Egon had retreated into that familiar sanctuary, sublimating his grief in his experiments. Or so he would have them believe.

More often than not, Winston found Egon slumped before the computer or one of the lab tables, his hands idle, his unfocused gaze fixed somewhere in the middle-distance. Not working, not thinking, not anything. It frightened Winston as much as Ray's nightmares. Maybe more-at least Ray could still be counted among the living, even if his normal enthusiasm had been diminished. He could see Ray recovering, given enough time. He wasn't so sure about Egon.

Poking his head around the door, Winston saw exactly what he had expected to find-Egon Spengler, motionless in front of the computer, shoulders slumped, hands slack on the keyboard. The too-familiar sight sent a pang of despair straight through Winston. He didn't know how much longer Egon could go on like this.

Winston squared his shoulders as he stepped into the room. Maybe he didn't have Peter's knack for dealing with moody physicists, but he wasn't giving up just yet. "Hey, Egon?"

There was no response from the physicist. For one hopeful moment, Winston thought Egon might have fallen asleep at the computer. It wouldn't be the first time. Winston knew that Egon hadn't been sleeping well. Most nights, he awoke from his own uneasy dreams to find Egon's bed empty and the light shining under the laboratory door. He was about to turn-leaving Egon to catch some well-deserved Zs-when the scientist shifted in his chair. He was awake, after all.

"Egon."

This time, he got Egon's attention. Startled blue eyes blinked at Winston from behind red frames, then Egon's gaze sharpened as he made the effort and focused. "I'm sorry, Winston. I didn't hear you come in."

"No problem. Just came to tell you breakfast is ready and waiting downstairs." Winston summoned up an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. I only let Ray set the table."

For just a second, an answering hint of a smile touched the corners of Egon's mouth. Then he looked away, toying absently with one of the tools scattered on the workbench. His hand shook minutely, mute testimony to his weakened state. "I'm not hungry."

Winston stifled the urge to sigh - or shout. "I know. But starving yourself isn't going to do anyone any good and I know for a fact you didn't eat anything last night. If this keeps up, you're gonna waste away to nothing."

He saw the denial forming on Egon's lips and beat him to the punch, though he had to steel himself to do it. "Peter wouldn't let you do this to yourself and neither will I. You know what he'd say, if he were here."

Egon's shoulders hunched protectively, and Winston wanted to kick himself. What the hell was he thinking? He was opening his mouth to apologize when weary blue eyes met his. There was understanding beneath the still-raw grief.

"He would tell me," Egon said, in a pale imitation of his usual dry tone, "to get my 'scrawny ass out of the lab before mold starts growing on it.'"

"Yeah, he probably would."

Winston could picture it clearly. Another round in the perpetual verbal sparring that had been such an integral part of Egon and Peter's friendship. Only, it had ended, hadn't it? And Egon was like a man who had lost a vital part of himself. Winston sometimes felt as if he had lost not one friend but two, and it hurt twice as much. This time, the sigh escaped. "Lord, I miss him."

"As do I," Egon said softly.

Winston pretended not to notice the catch in the other man's deep voice or the moisture shining in his eyes. Winston scrubbed a hand over his own, suddenly stinging eyes, then cleared his throat.

"Come on, Egon. Ray's waiting. And you gotta keep your strength up - for Janine."

Resigned to breakfast, Egon nodded. With the help of Winston's hand beneath his elbow, he got stiffly to his feet. He shuffled along like an old man, hunched around a pain so great it bent his body beneath its weight. Noting every hesitation, every tremor that passed through the slender frame beside him, Winston shepherded Egon toward the door.

If we don't get some food into the boy soon, Winston thought, Egon's headed for trouble, hypoglycemia or worse. And the last thing any of them needed to deal with right now was the additional stress of illness.

"No more skipping meals for you, Egon," Winston said, sternly. "And if you don't clean your plate, next time I'll let Ray try out that new recipe for haggis."

They had barely sat down at the table when they heard the door open downstairs and heavy footsteps clop across the brick floor. A familiar, and unwelcome, voice bellowed, "Anybody home?"

"Just what we needed." Winston groaned. A visit from Inspector Frump had never exactly been an occasion for rejoicing. Since Peter's death three months ago, it had become even less so.

Pushing his untouched plate away, Egon was the first on his feet. "I'll see what he wants."

"I'll go," Winston objected, rising to head him off. "You haven't even tasted your pancakes-"

"We'll all go."

They turned as one to look at Ray, who pushed his chair away from the table and joined them at the door. Egon nodded, and Winston gave in gracefully to the inevitable. He doubted either of them would eat a bite without him there to supervise them, anyway. "All right. Let's go."

In his usual rumpled, navy-blue suit, the police detective was waiting impatiently at the foot of the stairs. From the pinched expression on his bulldog face, Frump wasn't paying them a social call. Winston led the way down the stairs, then motioned for the detective to follow them over to Janine's desk. It never even occurred to him to use Peter's office.

"What can we do for you, Frump?" he asked, propping against the corner of the desk and crossing his arms as he studied their visitor. Not so coincidentally, his position put him between the detective and the guys.

There had never been any love lost between Frump and the Ghostbusters, though Frump usually reserved his worst enmity for Peter. Venkman had possessed a talent for rubbing certain people the wrong way and he had enjoyed honing his skills. Frump had been an irresistible target.

Today, however, Frump's customary belligerence seemed to have deserted him. In an oddly diffident tone, he said, "There's no easy way to do this..."

"What's happened?" Egon demanded, when the detective hesitated. "Have you found something? A new lead?"

Winston felt like cheering. It had been weeks -Months? Too damn long at any rate- since he had seen anything approaching this much life in Egon's eyes. He set a supportive hand on Egon's shoulder. "Yeah, Frump, this isn't helping. You got something new about Peter's case, just tell us."

"Uh, not exactly. Kinda, but not-" Breaking off, Frump shifted his bulk uneasily from one flat foot to the other. "It's, uh...Oh, hell. Venkman's grave was vandalized."

Winston's gut twisted. He felt the minute tremor that ran through Egon's body and immediately tightened his grip, prepared to support his friend-literally, if need be. "You need to sit down, Egon?"

Straightening resolutely, Egon shook his head, his gaze never wavering from the detective. When he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled voice. "'Vandalized' how?"

Apparently deciding it would be best to get it all out quickly now he'd begun, Frump said, "Someone dug up the coffin-"

"Oh, god," Ray choked out a horrified whisper.

"-and apparently made off with the body," Frump concluded, gruff but sympathetic. "There was no trace of it in the cemetery, so it looks like the perps took it with them."

"Oh... god."

Ray sounded as if he might be sick-looked like it, too, when Winston shot him a quick, concerned glance. But it was Egon who commanded his immediate attention. At the words "made off with the body," Egon's knees failed him. This time, Winston didn't ask. He simply steered Egon to Janine's chair and urged him down onto it. The shaken physicist didn't object.

"No." Oblivious to the tears streaming down his face, Ray was hugging himself and shaking his head in stubborn denial. "No, no, no..."

"Raymond." Despite his own shock, Egon reached out a reassuring hand. "It...it will be all right. We'll find-" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

We'll find his body, Winston silently finished it for him. And they would. It was the least they could do for Peter. He joined Egon in resting a supportive hand on Ray's shoulder, but settled an angry gaze on Frump. "You got any leads on the creeps who did this?"

"Just this." From his jacket, Frump pulled out a small glass vial, and handed it to him. "Found it all over the inside of the coffin. It'll be awhile before the lab results come back, but it's weird enough that it oughta be right up your alley. I thought maybe you clow-uh, fellows might be able to come up with something useful."

Winston glanced at the proffered vial, which held about two inches of some black, granular substance that might have been ashes-or pencil shavings for all he knew. He passed it to Egon and watched the other man examine the sample. Beside him, Ray pulled himself together enough to take an interest, auburn head bent close to blond as the two conferred. Winston had never been so relieved to see them click into what Peter had always called their "mad scientists mode."

Leaving them to it, Winston walked Frump to the door. Out on the sidewalk, Frump hesitated. "On the off-chance you guys do figure out what that stuff is-"

"You'll be the first to know," Winston assured him. He fixed the detective with an unyielding look. "And I expect you'll return the favor."

Frump scowled at him, but didn't argue. "Look, Zeddemore. You know I've never been the Ghostbusters' biggest fan, and that hasn't changed, but I'm sorry about Venkman. He wasn't exactly my favorite person, but nobody deserves to die like that. Or to have this happen to them after they're gone, either."

Not giving Winston a chance to reply, Frump turned briskly on his heel and headed for the unmarked sedan waiting for him by the curb. As he opened the car door, he added, "We'll get the scum who did this. You got my word on it."

"Damn right, we will," Winston vowed softly, fists clenched at his sides. With a final nod to Frump, he turned and went back inside the firehouse.

Winston found his partners in the upstairs lab. Egon was already passing a PKE meter over the sample, while Ray looked on. The meter reacted, the screen flickering to life as it registered the spectral energy lingering in the black matter.

"What is it, Egon?" Ray asked, leaning over Egon's shoulder to study the device.

"Residuals." Delicately, Egon adjusted dials and scowled at the meter's screen. "Something powerful-Class eight or nine, negative valence."

"There's something else, too," Ray noted, frowning as he studied the readings. "Gosh, Egon. It looks like," Ray's voice dropped to a whisper, "...a class four?"

Reluctantly, Egon nodded. When he spoke, he sounded almost apologetic. "It's very faint."

"Class four?" Winston's stomach clenched. Class fours were the spirits of the formerly-human. If there was a class four reading on the strange residue from Peter's grave, did that mean... "You think it's Pete?"

"We don't know that," Egon said quickly, darting a gaze at Ray, who had gone even paler than before. Egon removed his glasses and wearily massaged his eyes. "We'll have to take further readings. At the source."

"You mean at the cemetery." Winston suppressed a groan. This day just kept getting better and better. Hadn't even had breakfast yet and now they had to go see if their dead friend was haunting his own grave. Wonderful.

Egon nodded. "I'm afraid there's no way around it. We'll need to check the...uh, site, first hand. Considering the location, the class four may not be- It may be unrelated. Background noise, if you will."

"Background noise. Yeah." Winston accepted the possibility gratefully. But he could see the awful doubt still shimmering in Ray's eyes. "C'mon, Ray, you heard Egon. Just because there's a class four doesn't mean it's-"

"But it could be," Ray interrupted. His brown eyes were wide and haunted. "What if... Spirits can't move on if they have unfinished business or... What if, with the... the body... missing, he... " He broke off, unable to finish the thought.

Winston dropped a reassuring hand on Ray's shoulder. "Let's not borrow trouble, man. We don't know what's going on, but we're gonna find out."

"Winston is right," Egon said, replacing the PKE meter on the counter. "The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. I'll go to the cemetery and-"

"Hang on, Egon." Although the news of the vandalism had given Egon something to focus on besides his grief, it had also left him badly shaken, a fact not lost on Winston. He shook his head. "You're in no shape to go anywhere. I'll go."

"I'll go with you," Ray said. He had regained control of his emotions and there was a stubborn set to his jaw that warned them not to argue. "You shouldn't go alone, Winston. The people who did this...might come back."

Reluctantly, Winston nodded, then turned an accessing look on Egon. "Why don't you try to get some rest while we're gone? You look wiped."

Egon shook his head. "I'll begin analysis of the sample Frump gave us."

"We'll be back as soon as we can." Ray grabbed a second PKE meter and started for the door. "C'mon, Winston. It looks like there's a storm brewing. There's no time to waste."

With a final worried glance at Egon, Winston hurried after Ray.